Memory of Bloodstained Glass
by Mononoke-hime x sukai kurora
Summary: After a fight with their brothers, England and Japan are kidnapped by the parallel nations. They are condemned to torture for their "sins" committed during their history. As Japan and England are driven insane by the agony, the other nations race to find them. England and Japan find solace only in in their memories. But why is France...a comfort to England in his darkest memory?
1. Memory I

The shouting had become hoarse by the time Scotland punched England in the face. _Why do we continue to do this every bloody year? _England thought as he glared daggers at the red-haired Scotsman as he pulled at his hair. Since the deadly wars of the past had ceased to be in humans' memories, the brothers' human bosses had requested that they hold annual meetings, which actually meant _"do not declare war on each other or spark an international incident with two or more parties involved."_

Needless to say, England and his brothers were not happy. They had content with what they had been doing for years: beating the shit out of each other and moaning drunkenly about past grievances. The "meetings" that they had were held in Scotland's house. Scotland had smirked and proclaimed smugly that it was because he was the oldest and most organized of the four. England forced himself not to laugh out loud.

_Our bosses probably thought it would be best to hold the meeting in Scotland's house because he's mostly drunk, anyway. _Although Scotland's house appeared elegant and refined on the outside, England's eldest brother's house was covered with empty whiskey bottles and filled ashtrays with documents collected or not in various places in the house.

_And people wonder why I'm the representative of the United Kingdom, _England had thought many times while nursing a bloody nose or broken bone or two. In the present time, England glowered at the painted picture of one of the Scottish heroes of the past. Scotland remained patriotic as ever. Besides having pictures of the Scottish countryside and the depictions of controversial heroic battles, Scotland had various paintings of warriors and leaders throughout his history, including Robert the Bruce, one of the bloody Scottish kings. One time Scotland had broken England's arm because he overheard him calling him Robert the Brute. _I still have a bloody scar where you stabbed me, you bastard! _England thought as he growled at the sight of one of the thirteenth century defenders of Scotland.

"Well, you've got your bloody wish!" England spat. Sharp pain coursed through him as Scotland lifted his head toward his face. "You're independent now!" His anger increased when he saw Scotland's smirk. "You're free from me now, just like that fat bastard wanted!" He managed to break away from Scotland's grip, breathing hard. His emerald green eyes feverishly looked at the three pairs of eyes that were now staring at him coldly. England ignored the pain collecting in his throat as he spoke again. "Why the bloody hell do you have to rub in my bloody face?" His last sentence almost came out as a scream, echoing in the room as Scotland's self-satisfied grin echoed in his mind.

"I can't resist watching you squirm," Scotland stated with a dark gleam in his eye. "After all you did to me, and to my brothers, it feels nice…watching you suffer so."

"_Your _brothers?" England almost choked. His nails made indents into his palms, and his hands turned white. "They're my brothers too, you stupid skirt-wearing drunkard!"

"Some brother you were," Wales uttered with cold rage, "given of how you used me as your servant as soon as you gained power."

Scotland's eyes narrowed, and spittle started dripping from his mouth as he suddenly yelled and grabbed England's collar. "Don't you remember?" he hissed. England almost shuddered from the coldness in his voice. "Wales, our bloody brother, became your first colony. Our languages almost became forgotten by our _people _because of you!" His grip tightened, and England found himself drowning in his brother's rage-filled gaze. "And because of you, we were dragged into wars that we had no interest in! You almost killed Ireland, you stupid fucker!"

At the mention of their names, Wales and Ireland turned their cold and unforgiving eyes on their youngest brother. England was beginning to find it hard to breathe, with Scotland now holding his throat in his hands. "Your own brothers!" Scotland continued to scream. "The ones that used to carry you on our backs during our time before you fucked everything up!" England's eyes widened as he started to become light-headed. Scotland's face and his fiery hair started to fade in and out of focus. Suddenly, England collapsed on his knees and started to cough violently as his brother's hold on him ceased. He could feel the three pairs of eyes burning into his back, and his gasping face met theirs. Scotland wasted no time to crouch down next to him.

"I'm glad I'm free of you, you arrogant Englishman. You have no idea what it means to want to be free," he stated, laughing at the shock and then anger echoing across his brother's face. "Now I join Ireland in his independence, just like Wales fourteen glorious years ago." He smiled, the color draining from England's face. "Isn't that great, _brother_?" he said in mockery. England still didn't respond. "I still remember when I told France about my independence." Laughter echoed throughout the room, and in his glee Scotland didn't see England look up at the sound of France's name.

"It was so cold that night, but he seemed to be happy for me. "'I am happy you got yourself rid of that horrible Englishman,'" I remember his saying. We remained closer even after our alliance," Scotland whispered slyly even as his brother apparently was affected. For some reason his face became even more white. "Then he asked me to come over!" Scotland did not yet realize the stunned look on England's face, or of the lips starting to tremble. "How could I say no to a good fuck? I mean, he is very good in –" Suddenly Scotland found himself hard on the ground with a scrawny England on top of him, with a furious expression on his face.

"What the hell, England?" Scotland roared as England feverishly tried to injure his skin wherever he could reach. A faint purplish bruise started to darken on his face before Wales and Ireland could restrain the furious and struggling England. Scotland felt blood from a punch to his face drip onto his chin. Dark emerald green eyes met the almost identical ones with rage.

"I'm tired of this shit!" Scotland roared as England continued to struggle. "I'm tired of you getting pissed off when I mention the goddamn useless nation!" He inched closer to England's face. "And you know what? I don't understand why Mother sacrificed her life for you!" Scotland harshly held England's chin. "Why? For such a useless, _deploring_ life?" Suddenly England stopped struggling as Scotland continued to yell. "You're exactly like Ancient Rome, building an empire only on death and blood!" he hissed. "Ancient Rome should have killed you!"

England's eyes widened impossibly wide as he became limp in his brothers' arms. His arms lay limp by his sides, and his entire body started to shake as his white face stared at the harsh face of Scotland. He tried to open his mouth but couldn't speak. _Ancient Rome…_ His thoughts started to turn back to the ancient past, when he had been alone and afraid. Another memory, of angry tears and rage pulsing through his chest as blood leaked from the cuts on his hands.

"Stop it!" England stared dully at the youngest sibling before them. Northern Ireland, with her dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, looked nothing like her brothers. She had been born in the bloody aftermath of the Irish Independence. England had found her, a small thing with only a tuft of dark brown hair and the biggest dark blue eyes he had ever seen. She had been around the human age of two years old, and since that day more than one hundred years ago, she had grown up in England's house. She only met her brothers during their meetings, for despite being fourteen years old in human years, their bosses had stated that she shouldn't be unsupervised. _Probably only there to see we can get along, _England had thought with a slight chuckle when he had heard that shortly after the destruction of Scotland's house. Northern Ireland's dark blue eyes as she looked at the still form of her closest brother, and she was about to reach for him when Ireland barked, "Leave us alone, you stupid bastard child!" England didn't have to look to know that Northern Ireland had closed the door to the room behind her and started to sob. "No one wants you here either, England." England could only stare dully into Ireland's emotionless brown eyes. "Go to hell."

Shakily, England finally stood. No one moved to help him. Their hateful stares burned into his back, and he heard Northern Ireland's wails as he steadily walked along the hallways. This had been the worst fight that they had had. Not once had Scotland or any of his brothers had mentioned their mother even during the most violent times in their history. Until now. Now as he stood behind the doorway, he could hear the rain outside. It would pelt against his face, cold like the ice outside, but somehow England found himself not caring.

He stepped outside into the rain, not noting that Northern Ireland was beside him until her voice echoed into the sky.

"England, why are you crying?"

England didn't stare into the girl's dark blue eyes as his footsteps echoed in the snow.

"It's only the rain," he whispered.


	2. Memory II

_Jyūnigatsu jyūsan nichi._

_Sibiwol Sipsam._

_Shí èr yuè __shísān hào__**.**_

Or…December 13.

It didn't matter how someone said the date. It meant the same to four different nations.

China was fuming. "I taught you better than this, aru!" His amber eyes burned into Japan's. His face was aflame in anger.

"China, my boss meant no disrespect when he visited the Yasukuni Shrine," the shorter Asian nation stated calmly. His expressionless eyes met the older nations, inwardly grateful that whenever they had arguments he remained calm. South Korea was looking at Japan with a look of disgust on his face. Taiwan didn't even look at him, but that didn't mean he couldn't see the anger in her eyes.

The situation had started when Japan's boss, Moriyama Natsuhi, had visited the Yasukuni Shrine on December 13. _On today of all days_, Japan thought as he watched in horror on the television as he had watched the news report. That was when China had appeared, anger explicitly on his face. Since the end of the Second Sino Japanese War over one hundred years ago, Japan had not visited the Yasukuni Shrine. It had been one hundred years since the Nanjing Massacre. The deaths and the fires burning for six weeks remained embedded in his mind, and Japan was always careful to not to approach any of his former siblings on that day in December. For although South Korea and Taiwan had not been traumatized and scarred by the event as Chinawas, they each had suffered in one of the darkest times in Japan's past.

America-_san _did not understand. _"Why are you and China so tense? Aren't you dudes supposed to be Asian or something? Family and all of that?" _Although Japan would never say this to America-san, he had no sense of history. He did not see the glassy emerald eyes of England-_san_ when he mentioned of the American Revolution, or of the hurt in his brother's eyes – Japan could not remember his name at the present time – when he hugged his arm around him when he mentioned a visit to the White House. America-_san_ didn't understand why the Middle Eastern countries shied away from him, and why they were afraid of him.

And of why they wanted him dead.

Although not stunned by the fact that his boss had visited the controversial shrine comprised of the war dead and war criminals, Japan was always disappointed by his bosses. He told them every time when they first entered office to not visit the Yasukuni Shrine. _And so the cycle begins again. _Normally China nor the other nations would visit him whenever a report such as this surfaced, but the date of one hundred years passing on the day of the Nanjing Massacre was too much for China and the others to handle.

"Why?" China continued to yell. Japan inwardly flinched, noting of the hurt and despair in China's eyes as anger continued to burn in those amber depths. "Why, today of all days?" His hands clenched into fists. "You of all people know what today is!"

"Of course I do," Japan murmured softly. He wasn't certain if China had heard him. Memories of fire and blood echoed in mind, making an inward scream rise through his throat. He swallowed. He didn't like to think about those times, when most of the world had been his enemy and of the hatred and sorrow that still remained. "I remember Nanjing, China, which is why –"

"Then why did your boss visit?" China screamed. His voice cracked, and his eyes feverishly blinked. "Why did your boss visit that…_shrine _on December 13?" Upon the word shrine, China's mouth became an angry snarl. "He made my people so upset!"

Japan had seen the massive protests across China's house as soon as the broadcast was announced. He could still hear their angry words, even though it had been many centuries since he had spoken China's tongue. The students destroying Japanese-made cars and chasing after an old Japanese man had caused uncharacteristic anger to rise within him, but Japan didn't say anything. His expressionless eyes surveyed the room. Various Japanese paintings were in the room, as were multiple artifacts of his history, including samurai swords. As a rule, Japan never put pictures of his history that caused any nation pain. That did not make it so harsh words were not exchanged between them, however. Although once close, Taiwan refused to speak with him, and she mostly spent most of her days visiting with China and occasionally South Korea. When either of them got into an argument – for which there were many – Taiwan used to go to Japan for comfort. Now she simply looked at him with eyes similar to South Korea's.

"I am sorry this happened, China," Japan stated with bated breath. South Korea looked at him with shock and rage as the nation bowed to them. _He hasn't forgotten how he was under my rule. _"This was a mistake by my boss, and I apologize. This will not –"

"You always say that, da-ze!" Japan looked up expressionlessly, his heart clenched, as South Korea started to yell at him. His dark brown eyes held no warmth reserved for his older brother, or of the cheerfulness that the other nations knew. "You always say that this will never happen again, but it does!" His finger shook as he pointed harshly at Japan. "Your bosses visit that place that holds those demons that killed so many of our people every year, maybe even twice a year!" Tears trailed down his cheeks. "Your politicians say all the time that the Nanjing Massacre never happened! That the stories of the comfort women were _exaggerated_!"

Suddenly the normally cheerful South Korean pulled at Japan's kimono. "You tried to erase my language, my culture! You monster!" Japan's eyes widened at the surge of rage in South Korea's face as he tried to aim at his face. "You invaded my lands, and took almost _everything _from me!"

Japan's heart was still as South Korea neared to his face. "That wasn't enough though, was it, Japan?" Ice-cold shudders almost escaped from Japan "It's your fault that the Korean War happened!" South Korea did not yet notice the stunned and pained look on Japan's face once he said those words. "If you hadn't come and divided us to how to defeat you, my older brother would still be here with me!" At the mention of his older brother, South Korea started to wail. "It's all your fault," he wailed as his grip loosened on Japan. The smaller nation was still, his formerly expressionless face numb with shock.

"He's right, you know." Japan inwardly gasped as Taiwan started to speak. "You took me over too, Japan. For some many years." Dull anger echoed through her voice. "I felt the death of every one of my people as you killed them. I still remember the day you were defeated. That was the happiest day of my life." She smiled softly for a moment, but then her face became a mask of anger again. "You had to fight for China's land, didn't you? Everyone knows they belong to China."

"I don't care about those islands, Taiwan." Japan stated dully. "How many times have I told you that I have told my bosses to give them to China?" He started to plead, something that he had never done…not even almost one hundred years. His voice started to weaken. "You know I don't need those islands."

"You just want to wound me again, Japan!" The dark-haired nation visibly flinched at the coldness in China's voice. "You don't care about me! You never have!" His voice became a whisper. "Even when I found you in the bamboo grove as a tiny baby, you never acknowledged me for who I am." His eyes squeezed shut, and China started to cry, the tears trailing down his cheeks. "You gave me the scar on my back! It still hurts!" The tears ran furiously as the anger grew. "Our family is better off without you, Japan! I wish America would have killed you back then!"

For a moment, Japan could only stare at the panting China and scowling Taiwan and South Korea. He felt so cold, colder than he had been the hardest days of the war. At the mention of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the burns started to flame, but Japan was only conscious of the stillness of his heart and of his growing erratic breath. _He should have….killed me, _Japan thought dully as agony started to rip through him. He didn't even notice China walking out of his house, or of South Korea and Taiwan leaving the room. The formerly calm and collected nation was starting to break. Agonized memories bombarded his mind, making him tremble.

_I…_ Japan thought of nothing as he watched the moon shine outside. He had a faint memory of him and China talking. _I… _Japan could only remember what was said to him. His eyes closed sharply, trying to block the pain.

For the first time in his life of a nation, Japan started to cry.

* * *

><p><em>Jyūnigatsu jyūsan nichi <em>- December 13 (Japanese)

_Sibiwol Sipsam - _December 13 (Korean)

_Shí èr yuè __shísān hào _- December 13 (Chinese)


	3. Memory III

England often slept without dreams. Often enough, it came to his responsibility to comfort Northern Ireland, who was plagued with nightmares and recollections of the chaos that had plagued her country since she was born. _"England!" _He remembered her crying out to him, her face pale with blood and tears running down her cheeks. _"England, please! Make the stop!" _Blood had started to pool from a wound from her abdomen, soaking the traditional Irish dress that England had given to her to wear when she had been born. _"Please…" _Her blue eyes pooled in sorrow. _"Big brother…please." _The day of the heaviest violence in Northern Ireland was the only time when she had called him big brother. Even as a toddler only wearing ragged clothes stained red from the strife that she had been born to somehow understood that England didn't like being called big brother.

England still remembered her giving her that dress on that day in late spring shortly after her birth, her plump face becoming a smile when he put it on her gently. She still wore the dress, despite the mockery and bullying her brothers gave her, especially Ireland. _"Why do you still wear it, Northern Ireland?" _England had asked her after a disastrous meeting with Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. The fights had gone too far that day, calling Northern Ireland _"a traitor to the cause" _among others, including even _"England's bitch." _The young nation had simply looked at him and suddenly smiled at him. _"I won't ever not wear it England," _she told him quietly with strength that England had only seen once. _"I will always wear it because…you're important to me." _England couldn't sleep that night, and he spent most of his insomnia recalling the memories he had of his youngest sibling.

Now as he looked into the blank space of the darkened room, England thought about the situation that had occurred with his brothers. Many times the brothers had stated words that they regretted later, resulting in added wounds to the scars with physical ones. _"Ancient Rome should have killed you!" _A statement such as that hadn't been stated before, one of the de facto rules that the brothers had agreed on. Their mother, their beloved Britannia, had been mentioned in such a way England had been beyond the emotion of tears.

It appeared that his brothers wanted him dead. _I guess…they've finally caught on, _England thought as his thoughts became more morose. India refused to speak with him whenever they met at World Meetings, and China called him "Opium" still. Although once having the vastest empire in the world, England understood that most of his former colonies still haven't forgiven him for his actions in the past. America had grown stiff when England had criticized his actions in the Middle East.

Although the conversation had been spoken almost four decades ago, England remembered the tear in his heart of how America had responded with such anger and resentment. _"How is what I'm doing different from you did to me, England?"_ England didn't respond despite the cautious and concerned glances by the other nations. Unlike that time now, England couldn't ease his mind by embroidery. He had told himself that America often had uncontrollable bouts of anger from the amount of violence in his country and of the political bullshit he dealt with every two to four years. That didn't stop a new scar from forming, however.

Ironically, even with the rubbish of the peace of the twenty-first century, England felt more alone than ever. France was the only one that truly visited him, often speaking in his frog tongue and _flirting_ with him, it often ended with England furiously screaming obscenities at him and the Frenchman laughing across the goddamn Channel. _The only closest to a friend I have…and it has to be the perverted frog. _England remembered of how many times France had tried to comfort him whenever any of his country's became independent, each of the colonies departing with sharp words and resentment. The latest had been when Ireland had separated from their house in 2024, the prideful flags of the Welsh people waving as their national anthem was sung. England had been too bitter and his body too built up holding the sorrow to even care that tears were trailing down his cheeks and France's arm was on his shoulder. When Scotland had declared independence earlier that year, England had been numb to the fact that America was celebrating for the freedom that Scotland had gained, his Revolutionary uniform bright blue against the snow. A jolt had shaken him when America had suddenly pulled his arm around him and told him that he and Scotland were now best friends. _"After all, alike minds think alike, don't they? The tyranny is over!" _England supposed his former colony didn't see him stumbling among the celebrating people as his heart, again, drowned in the sorrow leaking from his mind.

England sighed again and broke his thoughts from the memories. His emerald eyes searched the room, smiling inside at the numerous pictures from memory. Paintings of the English countryside and people that he had met throughout his history were against every wall. A large library, where he had taught numerous countries how to read and write, was across from his bedroom. Northern Ireland slept in the room across from it. In the office that he mostly worked in throughout the days and especially before another chaotic World Meeting had many documents neatly stacked and into piles. A framed picture of the only boss that he had truly loved was the first thing he saw every time he first opened the door. "Help me, Bess." England whispered as he thought of the beloved – _his _beloved – English queen. "I don't know what to do." He held his head in his hands, his blond hair soft against his fingers. "Am I…truly what they say I am?"

There was no response. England licked his lips, attempting to hold the emotions at bay as he closed his eyes. Suddenly, he thought he heard a voice.

"Like what, my dear?"

England inwardly started at the sound, his eyes immediately narrowing when he turned on his light and couldn't see nothing. _Northern Ireland is asleep…so who it is that is making that noise? It wouldn't be the frog, as he would speak in his perverted tongue…and America wouldn't say that either. He has an intelligence of a teaspoon, so he wouldn't say something so elegant or …refined. _As England thought, he became unaware of a person coming up behind him. England blanched at the thought that suddenly came to him. He thought about the voice again and what was said. _It sounds like…me. _Before anything could be said however, England felt a tight hand around his neck and _something _pressed against his mouth.

Before he could even scream, everything went black.

* * *

><p>Japan could only stare at the character that he had somehow created. The nation had been unable to sleep again. It wasn't uncommon for such an old nation like himself. Similar to humans, the older they become, the less they sleep. There were times when Japan couldn't sleep from the horrid memories of his past, particularly the war that caused him to sit outside and stare at the sky. Today was one of those nights. Sometimes too Japan writing kanji whenever those nights happened, and somehow he found himself staring at the kanji before him. <em>"Kyōdai," <em>he whispered. _Siblings. _Japan thought about that word for a moment.

At one moment of time he had many siblings. At one time he had adored China as an older brother. _"Oniichan!" A young Japan called to the taller older nation as China started to walk to his house, actually running towards him despite the shouts from his bosses. "Okearinasai, oniichan!" China had crouched down to Japan's height and smiled, stroking his hair fondly. _Japan still remembered the words that China had spoken to him despite that moment being over one thousand years ago. He remembered of the time when China had introduced him to both of the Koreas, now separated for over eighty years. _"It's your fault the Korean War happened!" _They had all been shy, with Japan trying to run to China for comfort despite his boss' tight grip on his kimono. It was the future South Korea that had spoken first, smiling in contrast to the heartbroken expression that had echoed on his face that night. What happened to that bond?

Japan knew that there were times when words could not heal wounds. He had wounded all of his siblings deeply, almost beyond repair. _History is only a breath away, _Japan thought solemnly. Although the conversations with China and South Korea had not changed since the end of the war, it hurt Japan that they believed him to be in the same manner of his bosses. He couldn't. The stain of the war was still deep and ingrained in his memory. _"You are a kind nation, Japan-san. I can see it in your eyes, and I know that your siblings will see that as well someday." Akihito-san… _Although his face had been a mask of emotionless when Emperor Heisei had died, Japan had in fact been devastated.

Most bosses, whether emperor or prime minister, had not cared for their nation as much as Akihito-_san _did. Japan had known him as a child, and remembered of the hug that had been one of the only fleeting peace that he felt from the child that would one day inherit the throne. He treated the nation as if he understood the pain that Japan was going through. That something even many nations could not do. Japan still visited his grave every chance he could despite the twelve years since his death, and he wondered briefly what he would think about the current situation with China and South Korea.

_They do not want me to exist. _Japan swallowed, thinking about the conversation that they had that night. _They want me to die for something that still echoes in the past… _Japan softly touched his cheeks, as if remembering the feeling of the tears falling down his face. Even in his darkest moments as a nation, he didn't cry. The knowledge that the four people that had once been close to him wanted him to cease to exist broke him. As the Asian nation continued to stare at the sky, he suddenly became aware of how cold it was. His feet and hands were as cold as ice that shielded the grass from the snow in the winter months. Stiffly Japan stood and picked up the rice paper with the ink brush that he had brought. His back was turned when suddenly he felt a familiar weapon piercing through his back. Japan was still as he felt the pain coursing through his body as his mouth slightly opened in agony as blood started to seep from the wound. He dropped both items from his hand. Japan gulped as the katana cut deeper through his back and as the pain continued to increase.

"_Dare desu ka?" _Japan whispered, feeling the pain's effect on his voice as it shook. The question was met with silence, but the wounded nation suddenly felt himself being pulled to the opposite side. Japan's eyes widened impossibly wide. _Iie… _Japan thought as the color drained from his face. _Iie... _The emotionless eyes and the dark hair. The red eyes… Japan felt a tremor shook through him. _Masaka… _he pleaded. _Masaka… _The nation couldn't even react from shock when he felt an exploding pain through his skull as he fell into his unconsciousness.


	4. Memory IV

Bleary and unfocused green eyes opened in the lightless room. England groaned, the act of even opening his eyes causing pain to erupt in his head. The nation could only close his eyes in vain, hoping that the dull agony sharp against his skull would disappear. Slowly, England began to open his eyes again. He couldn't see anything. The darkness surrounding him was omnipotent. Gradually he began to be aware of the tightness around his legs and hands, and of the wood sharp against his skin. _I've been kidnapped, haven't I? _England let out a weary sigh. It had been attempted many times to kidnap a nation, especially in times war.

Kidnapping a nation almost absolutely determined the outcome for the war, as if you killed a nation enough times, it would cause the land and the people to collapse around them as the nation lied dead across their feet. Although all nations knew of their predicament – and advantage – of this knowledge, no one had used it. Even England's brothers had not done this in the bloodiest years of the wars that they had. _Although…there was the one time with Italy, but that was only to stop Germany from waging anymore war, _England thought as he remembered of the carefree Italy in the Allies' hands and a furious Germany storming the base to rescue his ally. Needless to say, the plan didn't work._ Some bollocks idea that was. _England tried to untie the knots using the skills he had obtained as a pirate, but the goddamn rope was too tight. Every time he moved it cut deeper into his skin. His legs were equally immobile.

"Hey, you bloody bastards!" He screamed at the wall. After many minutes of trying to get free and only achieving cuts along his wrists and blood dripping across his hands, England was starting to get pissed. "When the bloody hell am I going to be able to be the shit out of you? You can't just bloody kidnap me!" England continued to yell. "My bloody government will –"

"You truly shouldn't use such language, dear."

England sharply turned from the wall to wherever that voice was, causing another spurt of blood to leak out of his cuts. He couldn't see anyone. England frowned. Suddenly a light clicked on, and England squeezed his eyes tightly shut from the occurring pain as a hiss escaped from his mouth. Squinting his eyes open again, England was only able to recognize the dark stone that had once been used centuries ago when he was a younger nation. Everything else was blank. England suddenly became aware of fingers holding his chin. Inwardly he gasped from the contact, swear words coming to mind as the person in front of him continued putting his fingers across his skin. His words choked in his mind though when he saw the face.

It was a face eerily similar to his own. England could only swallow as he noted the same hair and the same eyes that this person had with him. Even his eyebrows were the same. Looking at him closer however, England found that there were subtle differences. His eyes were green yes, but there was a slight pinkish hue to them. He was also wearing something that even France or even Poland wouldn't wear. A light blue bowtie contrasted with the purple vest that he wore, and his hair was_ slightly_ less askew. Thinking about his hair made England remember angrily of what France had once told him about his hair. _"You have such disgusting hair, Anglettere! Nothing compared to moi!"_

"Who the bloody hell are you?" England snapped angrily. Strangely enough, his counterpart smiled.

"You shouldn't use such language, love." Even his voice reminded England of his own, only it was smoother and higher in octave. "It's unbecoming of a gentleman such as yourself." England glared. _Why the hell is this idiot calling himself a gentleman? No gentleman would simply _kidnap _someone! _England's frowned deepened as he stared at his…prisoner. _Who is this arsehole? _"Before you ask the question my love, I am you." A giggle escaped from him.

England stared to laugh until it reached a point until it echoed across the walls. "How…could you be me?" he gasped. The nation laughed again at the other's crestfallen expression. "How could such a bloody wanker wearing _purple _be me?" England's laughter stopped in his throat as he witnessed a change within the person standing in front of him. His eyes suddenly swirled in pink, and his formerly smiling expression became one of rage.

"I _am _you, England." His tone was now cold, his fists by his sides. "And you should treat me with proper respect as the personification of the Great British Isles." Suddenly his hands cupped England's chin again and began to squeeze hard. "Understand?" England could only force himself to look in his counterpart's swirling pink eyes as the grip on his chin became painful. The voice echoed in his mind again, and he realized that it was the same voice that had spoken to him shortly before being kidnapped that was the same voice belonging to the person staring at him now. England nodded.

"Good," the person said again, a sudden carefree look to appear on his face again. England inwardly blanched. _Is he insane? _"How ungentlemanly of me to not introduce myself." He bowed slightly to the captured nation. "My name is Oliver Kirkland." His green eyes complete with a light hue of pink stared in England's own. "And you, my love?"

"Why should I bloody tell you if you already know who I am?"

Suddenly there was a sharp pain in England's throat as hands started to squeeze. Shocked emerald orbs stared as the pink swirls started to move faster and faster.

"No swearing, please." He stated softly. His hands started to squeeze harder, and England found his oxygen to start to deplete. His eyes widened, and he weakly tried to thrash as his eyesight started to only being able to focus on the pink swirls. "No using that terrible language of yours…or I will have to kill you." England slowly found himself looker deeper and deeper into those eyes as his breath started to stop from his chest. "It truly…devastates me when someone says those kinds of things." Without warning the hands dropped from England's throat, and the English nation found himself coughing violently and gasping heavily as he started to regain his consciousness back.

"Do you know why you are here, England?" The nation frantically shook his head.

Oliver's face suddenly came dangerously close to his own. He smiled, an eerie smile that suddenly caused fear to pool in England's stomach. His lips became dangerously close to England's ear, and England could taste the sweetness of it as he whispered.

"For your sins."

"…Sins?" England repeated dully. His throat cracked, and his voice was barely above a whisper from the near choking he had received. "What sins?"

This time, Oliver did not react in rage. Instead, he continued to smile. England started to break out in cold sweat as the minutes passed by when Oliver continued to say nothing. Suddenly England felt something sharp against his neck. A knife, small and no bigger than his hand, lied against his skin.

"Don't you remember, Arthur?" Oliver purred as he began to apply more pressure. "Don't your remember Wales, your dearest brother? Or perhaps of how you plundered the seas without thought of the local inhabitants?" Blood started to trickle onto the knife. "Of the wars….of India and Burma? Of how you destroyed them?" England was still as he felt his blood drip down onto the floor, hearing the eerie sound echo in his ears. "The massacres and colonies that you said you loved? Jean D'Arc?" England's breath caught in his throat as the knife went in deeper, feeling his flesh cry out in pain as blood continued to fall onto the ground. "Of your precious America…and perhaps even France?"

England started to tremble at the sound of that name. He tried to speak, but the only response was the smile of Oliver before him and the blood against the knife. Suddenly the knife was pulled away, and Oliver looked at him strangely as England began to pale. Behind Oliver, when he moved, were more knives and other instruments that England had thought he had forgotten. _Oh god… _England thought as Oliver began to smile, sweeter somehow, at the sight. _Oh god…_

"And now it begins, Arthur."

* * *

><p>Japan stood silently as a familiar shape stood in front of him. <em>I hoped this day would never come… <em>the Asian nation thought as Kuro stood blankly in front of him. His eyes were always the same. Red and concealing. Much like his own, and yet unlike his own. Japan didn't say a word as Kuro continued to glance around the room in disinterest. They had met before, only in dreams. During the time when former allies had been enemies, Japan used to hear Kuro all the time. Telling him things. There were times when Japan truly thought he was being controlled, as the whispers of darkness continued to increase.

Then it only appeared again in nightmares, the voice echoing the demons of the past. Something that Japan came to realize that would never go away. It was around that time when he realized that Koru was simply the deepest darkness within him, influencing him and at times controlling him. All nations had done atrocities and unspeakable actions during their history. There were times though when a nation, knowing of what they had done, simply channeled their memories and thoughts into another entity. A parallel nation was born when the first atrocity made by their counterpart was committed, knowing only the darkness and despair of that country, knowing neither peace nor light. The parallel nation only lived when the other nation lived. That was what Kuro told him, anyway. The whispers made by them leaked into their minds without even realizing it, making the counterpart nation influenced by the parallel. No one knew of this because none of the nations had ever met their parallel, in dreams or in reality. Now Japan was standing in front of his parallel for the first time.

"Why did you kidnap me, Kuro?" Japan asked carefully, determined to not allow his anger to leak from his voice. Kuro looked at him with his red eyes.

"I note you did not call me with a suffix, Japan."

"That is because I have no respect for you," Japan stated, dangerously calm as he stared at his counterpart. "You are something from the past that does not feed me anymore."

Kuro's voice held no emotion as he spoke. "Ming-Li wants me to torture you." Japan's face paled. "As does Hyun-soo. I hope you understand."

"I…don't understand." Japan whispered. His mask was starting to crack, as was his voice. "Why…do they want this?"

As Japan's face started to crumble in despair and his eyes started to widen, Kuro started to raise his katana as he finished speaking. "Do you want me to hurt you again, Japan?" The wound that Kuro had given him had healed, but even so Japan self-consciously touched where the wound had been. As Japan's breath became uneven, he remembered of the nightmares that had haunted him since the war had ended almost one hundred years ago. I…can't do it again. Japan thought. I…can't. China's and Korea's counterparts were receiving more and more thoughts from the nations Japan once knew as his siblings. According to Kuro, they were threatening to kill _him _if he didn't do something about the situation. _"You will relive all your pain, Japan. All the agony. All the suffering. You will relieve your worst memories. Nothing…will be forgotten." _Japan would be tortured until he remembered the sins of his history, and would apologize for the war that he desperately – in his heart – wanted to forget.

"Please…" Japan pleaded. "There must be another way."

Kuro put his katana on Japan's shoulder, cutting through his kimono. "There is no other way." He noted the growing apprehension in Japan's eyes. "I will not kill you, although both counterparts would like that, wouldn't they? Your people will not suffer, Japan. Although…they are the same people as you are, people who refuse to see the past that is before their eyes. Not caring about the pain their nation has caused."

Anger that Japan had never experienced before overcame him as he attempted to land a blow on Kuro. His formerly apprehensive eyes turned to rage before Kuro slashed him with his sword. The blood was as dark as his eyes as he watched his weak counterpart fall into unconsciousness as the wound from his chest continued to flow.

"What a failure of a samurai you are," Kuro whispered. "Attacking me without weapon of you own…although you_ have_ done something similar before." He crouched down to an unconscious Japan and picked him up with his hair. "Isn't that right…Kiku?


	5. Memory V

"Never fear! The hero is here!"

France sighed at the unmistakable obnoxiousness of the American personification strutting into the World Meeting. The blond Frenchman eyed beyond the door, hoping to see his beloved _Anglettere_, but the grumpy Englishman was nowhere in sight. _Where could _mon Anglettere _be? _France wondered half-dramatically as he set his beautiful gorgeous hair onto the disgusting table. All for dramatic effect of course. Not that he was worried about the insufferable Englishman.

_"Amerique," _France intoned. America looked at him curiously, the glasses slightly glinting in the sun as he stared at the older nation. "Some nations would prefer _quiet _when a World Meeting starts." With his usual romantic flair, France pointed to a frustrated Germany, who was desperately and failing to calm a hyperactive Italy stop talking about pasta…and sleeping in the same bed? A perverted smile grew across France's face as he now ignored _Amerique_ for some juicy information on what was going on in Germany's bedroom. _It's no wonder that he's so uptight all the time. He needs to spread _l'amour_, and I will be very happy to advise him on the sensual and beautiful art. _Unfortunately, France's thought were interrupted by a very strong punch to the head.

"My _Anglettere, _why must you –?" France's voice stopped when he saw that it was not _Anglettere _that had hit him as usual, but Switzerland. The rifle-carrying blond had a faint blush across his cheeks.

"Keep your mind out of the gutter, France." The Swiss' eyes narrowed at the innocent expression France had across his face. "You're upsetting my sister." France glanced at the tiny Lichtenstein, who was trembling out of fear at the normal rowdiness of the meeting.

"It looks like to me that she is more afraid of South Korea grabbing China's breasts," France stated as he watched the two Asian nations chase each other around the room in fascination. "You weren't watching, were you?" A sly smile appeared on his face as Switzerland started to splutter. _Ah, he is new in the art of _l'amour_, _France thought as he witnessed South Korea trying to grab China's breasts _again_. France absentmindedly wondered of what China would look like without any clothes at all, and a blissful look appeared on his face. Although he would feverishly deny it, France often found his fantasies including his _cher Anglettere_. _Why is that, I wonder? _

France looked back at the door again, but no foul-mouthed Englishman sporting disgusting eyebrows appeared. _It is rather odd, _France thought now that he looked around them – without glancing at certain parts of course – that two nations were absent. For sure, Prussia often arrived ridiculously late without often supporting pants with a furious Hungary trying to bash his head with her frying pan, but _Anglettere _and Japan were always the first one to arrive.

_Especially since it is his city that the Englishman is so proud of. He normally is very proud of London, and will usually ask each of us to sight see the dreary and depressing city before we leave…unlike a certain American who practically _drags _us to everything in New York City or Boston. _France sniffed at the memory of the undignified and unromantic cities that somehow _Amerique _was so proud of. _And then he stuffs himself with hamburgers and falls asleep before the meeting even begins. _His smile faded at another memory. _And he upsets _Anglettere _whenever he mentions the Boston Massacre. _

"Where in the fucking hell is the tea bastard?" France turned to find a furious Romano sitting in his seat with a red face as he looked around the room. "He's fucking late, and this is _his _goddamn city!"

_"Fratello," _Italy whined while trying desperately to calm down his southern counterpart. "You shouldn't swear so much. It's not healthy. Besides," the northern Italian brightened, "England is our friend now!"

"Shut up," Romano grumbled. "I can fucking swear how much I want." The darker Italian crossed his arms and frowned. "Wherever can I go to find some good pasta here?" His nose wrinkled. "England's people suck."

France heard Germany audibly sigh as Italy began cries of _"Pasta!" _as he tried to gain control of the World Meeting. As always, it didn't work. _Amerique _was currently laughing at the antics of Prussia, who was this time being chased around by Hungary _and _Austria. China had now built a miniature Wall in order to fend of South Korea, shouting at him to not touch his "islands" as the other Asian nations watched emotionlessly at their family's antics. Vietnam in particular was not paying attention to the scene at all. Instead, she was looking at _Amerique _with undisguised disdain in her eyes. She was not the only one.

Many nations had gathered every month to discuss the world's ongoing problems – problems that their bosses didn't really care about. Often the nations would gather in the capitals of each of the nations' house – or in times of crisis they would settle for less extravagance and had meetings in the countryside. Sometimes, however, that did not help the tension in the room at all. France winced, remembering of how _Anglettere _and Ireland had a screaming match and almost beat each other to a pulp – although no less damaging than the fights that he had with the Englishman in the past centuries – during the time of the Welsh Referendum fourteen years ago in _Gaelic _no less. France thought that the emerald eyed nation had forgotten it. The problem was, each and every nation usually had issues with one another no matter how many centuries had passed. In many cases. Some nations, especially former colonies, did not even associate between their former parental figures.

Poor _Anglettere _took it so hard. Other nations simply were resentful and often hated other nations for actions they had done in the past. France remembered of the many times when he had consoled the Englishman whenever one of his colonies gained independence. Even though his colonies wouldn't believe it, _Anglettere _had loved them, no matter what history said. France could see Iraq glaring at _Amerique_ as well, his brown eyes not concealing the violent wish he wanted upon the American. It had been over thirty years since Iraq had been invaded by the young superpower"to be the hero" and a disgruntled Englishman. France still remembered of what _Anglettere _had told him before he had left with his military on that March day. _"I don't bloody want this, France. I have to. My people need me." _

Even now France wondered why _Anglettere _sounded almost desperate for him to understand what he was doing. It surprised the European nation further that after the aftermath of the war that had left Iraq bloody and weak, his resentment of _Anglettere _had faded and they had started talking. Now it appeared his former resentment was aimed at _Amerique_. The robe-wearing Middle Eastern nation was as far away from _Amerique_ as possible. _Poor Ukraine, _France thought as he stared at the battered nation sitting by his friend Spain. _She has yet to recover from the war that almost tore her apart. _She and Russia were not still on speaking terms, and sometimes Ukraine broke into bouts of crying during a meeting. _It's only been thirteen years since the disastrous war ended, so…_

_"Nihon wa doko desu ka?" _France looked in surprise as he saw Greece half-sitting with his eyes open as he petted one of his cats. _All that fur, _France thought in aversion, _what it must do to his clothes! _His _Anglettere _would mock him if he had said such thought out loud, but the Englishman was nowhere to be seen.

"We don't speak fucking Japanese, cat bastard!" Romano yelled. He started to stand, ignoring Spain's remarks that he looked like a _"tomate peque__ño__" _and paced around the room. "Hey, kraut!" France averted his eyes from Germany at the racial slur. "Do you know where your former fucking ally is, because I'm getting _really _pissed off!"

"But…_Nihon_…" Greece tried to say before the nation was cut off.

"Japan isn't here?" For a brief moment _Amerique _appeared concerned before breaking into a smile and laughing. "Awesome! The old man Iggy always tell off my _great _ideas anyway even though he denies the fact that he's only an extension of myself! _Everyone _confuses Iggy's old-fashioned place with _my_ place! And he's not a hero like I am!" As the American continued to laugh, France could see the other nations sweat-drop. _Your idea of a good idea is curing Ebola through the hamburgers… _

"Really, Fredka?" Russia smiled from across the room, and France could feel the murderous rage emerging from him. "Why do you call yourself a hero when you –"

"Stay away from me, commie!" _Amerique _screamed. For once "the hero" looked frightened and backed away into the chair across from Canada. "Why do you call me that disgusting nickname, anyway? It's probably something creepy like you!" For a moment France thought he saw a sad look filter across Russia's face before he began smiling again.

"Everybody, shut up!" Germany roared. The light blond haired personification was grinding his teeth, and a vein was starting to pop in his forehead. "We will deal with the absence of Japan and England at another time!" Germany marched to the front of the circled table and looked at them critically. "For now, we will –"

At that moment the door banged open. France and the other nations looked in surprise that it was not _Anglettere _– although he would deny doing such an "ungentlemanly act" – or Japan, but rather a girl with dark brown hair and blue eyes. France recognized her immediately with her traditional Irish dress. As he looked closer at the younger nation, France was stunned to find tears running down her cheeks. The bonnet in her hair was slightly askew, and she was panting hard as her red-rimmed eyes circled around the room. Immediately Northern Ireland started walking towards Germany, her footsteps stiff as if she was controlling herself not to run. France forced himself not to worry as Germany's eyes widened and a grim expression appeared on his face as Northern Ireland continued to cry fresh tears.

"Everyone," Germany voiced grimly beside the youngest member of the British Isles, "our fellow nation Northern Ireland has told me that England is missing. He has not been seen in over twenty-four hours, and his cell phone was left in his house. This," he sighed, "calls for an emergency."

"_Verdammt it," _he whispered.

* * *

><p><em>Anglettere <em>- England (French)

_Amerique _- America (French)

_Mon Anglettere_ - my England (French)

_Cher_ - dear (French)

_L'amour - _love (French)

_Fratello _- brother (Italian)

_Nihon - _Japan (Japanese)

_Nihon wa doko desu ka? - _Where is Japan? (Japanese)

_Tomate peque__ño _- Small tomato (Spanish)

_Verdammt it - _Goddamn it (German)


	6. Memory VI

_The warm summer wind caressed his face. He could barely open his eyes, and yet the warm sun was slightly pleasing to his damaged, destroyed body. Heaving a great sigh, Japan squeezed his eyes open and stared blankly as his boss kneeled beside him. Japan had come to know this room very well since he had been losing the war. Losing. Before the thought of surrendering to an enemy would make the nation tremble in shame and want to fight until his very last breath, blood new and old on his katana as he ran forward to honor his people in their death. Now however, he was past caring. _

_The nation known as Japan wanted the pain to stop. The numbing, excruciating and agonizing pain as it tore through his limbs. There were times when he was only able to lay in the _futon _weak and unable to speak as the scars of the war inflamed inside. Japan stared at his boss, seeing his face grim as he stared at his wounded nation. His bespectacled face held worry and grief that Japan knew he had. Japan remembered of how he had collapsed in the middle of the night with a meeting with the said boss, waking to find a cool washcloth placed over his forehead as his breathing suddenly became difficult. His body burned, and screams almost tore at his throat as the reality of the aftermath of the bombing registered in his mind. Tokyo had been bombed last night. Now as Japan lay in the _futon _as his boss stared into the depths of his mind, Japan spoke._

_ "No more," he rasped. Although his voice had been like this for the past two years, it still surprised to find that the once calm and collected voice gone, and another broken one remained in its stead. His boss looked at him then, a sad smile framing his face. Japan knew that look. It was a look of resignation; a look of one accepting his or her fate. _They have been talking with him then, _Japan thought as sharp claws on pain started to gather in his back. _They do not want to surrender. _A sharp hiss almost escaped from him as another scar throbbed. Japan attempted to move but could not to. His body was too damaged from the bombings that the Allies had done to him. Blood had been his companion since the war had begun. At first, it was only a small spot and healed in minutes. _

_Now waves of agony often overcame him as blood leaked from his wounds, staining his kimono. It didn't matter how many times an exhausted Japan would try to remove the stains as the blood finally stopped. The red stains would never come out. "No more," he whispered, almost pleading as he thought about the peaceful days of when he would simply sit outside under the shade of the tree and watch the _sakura _falling from the trees. His people had not been dying. Not then. Japan stiffened at the thought of seeing the bodies of the dead, burned to almost nonexistence and children crying for their lost families. _"Onegai shimasu," _he whispered as his voice was lost in his deep breathing. His boss looked at him, his eyes somber as he watched his nation plead. _"Watashi wa…" _Suddenly time seemed to stop. Japan didn't speak. His face was a mask of horror._

_ Then it came. It waves of agony, in streams of pain and knowing nothing but of the _burning and people dying _as it became his entire being. As it expanded throughout him, Japan could feel everyone one of his citizens dying, their screams, and their existence fading away. He started to scream. Against the agony that continued to grow and destroy him, Japan could see his boss trying to shake him, speaking to him – then shouting and screaming – in frantic Japanese. The words didn't seem to make sense in Japan's broken mind. When his boss tried to touch him, the nation responded with a scream that sounded higher and more desperate as he became aware of nothing but of the heat and the pain. Japan was still screaming as he saw his boss running away to find out what had happened as Japan's consciousness finally faded away…_

Japan gasped harshly as he was brought back to his consciousness. His breathing didn't slow as he looked around where he was. The Asian nation was in a traditional Japanese room, the shoji screens bearing cranes in flight as _sakura _blossoms dotted the peaceful scenery. Japan's breathing slightly slowed at the sight, the familiar scene calming him as he swallow what he had just witnessed. It had been a memory. On the day ninety-three years ago, Japan had been bombed at Hiroshima. The agony that had caused him to scream and collapse from the sheer pain remained in his mind. He had been told that as he had lied unconscious, screams and cries of pain had escaped from him. The bomb had caused another scar to form, a scar that burned into his flesh and one that America-_san _never looked at. The pain was as real as it had been that day, the agony running through his veins as the screams of his people and their deaths burned in his mind. Japan shuddered, the horror in his mind still as Kuro walked inside.

Japan didn't respond. He had awakened in this very room, conscious now as his sword wound had healed. His hands and feet were bound by wire as he sat in the lone chair in the room. Japan tried to glance at his counterpart, but his counterpart simply ignored him for a moment, glancing at the scenes around him before focusing on Japan again. His emotionless red eyes bored into Japan's own, as if searching. For a moment, Japan allowed himself to look more closely at his counterpart as a disdainful look appeared on Kuro's face. Unlike his own naval white uniform that he wore, Koru's was black and smelled of blood. He wore two_ katanas_ at his hip, referencing the days of the Ōnin and Sengoku Wars. As Japan continued to observe, he slightly flinched when Koru crouched down near him.

"It has been not even one hundred years since that American has bombed you," he stated slowly. "And yet are friends with him." Japan visibly gulped, remembering of how coldly angered Koru could become at times. _"Allies," _he hissed as if it was a word not to be used. "And yet your mind did not break as I thought would when I reminded you of that day." He moved slightly, his face not towards Japan any longer as an uncertain emotion set in. "You do remember it, though. The pain. The agony." Now his eyes turned to Japan's again, and the fury inside them shocked Japan. "The deaths of those you could not save. _Ne,_ Kiku?"

Japan slightly started at the sound of his human name. No nation had used it in the centuries that he had existed. Not even America-_san _had called him by his human name, although they had been allies almost a century. No one except…

"You have no right to call me that, Kuro." Coldness escaped his voice, and Koru remained silent as Japan stared at him.

"I do have a right, Kiku." Koru eased the katana out of its scabbard, seeing his own reflection as he stared at the weapon that had ended the lives of many deplorable human beings. "I _am_ you. I am your darkness, your hate, the life that you had lived during the war. I am your _memory._" A soft song of the katana rose into the air as the blade pointed in between Japan's eyes. The nation didn't flinch. Koru's breath eased as the blade came closer and closer to Japan's face. "I am everything that you have forgotten…including the memories that are deep buried inside your heart." For a moment none of them moved. Then Koru sheathed his sword into his scabbard again and closed his eyes. "I do think you have dwelled enough inside the memories Kiku." He paused, unconcerned at the deepening horror on his counterparts face as he eased his hand on the other's forehead. "I do not think you have experienced the amount of pain you need in order to realize what you have done."

"_Iie!" _Japan cried. _"Iie, yamete kudasai! _Kuro –"

_The fires had spread. Japan was lying in a pool of his own blood as he felt every moment of his citizens' deaths. He had been writing a letter to England-_san _when the earthquake had happened. Fires had engulfed the city of Tokyo, spreading through the homes of many of his people. Killing them as they burned, as they choked on the smoke that destroyed that destroyed their lungs, and melting their skin off of their faces. One of the hard parts about being a nation was that with every death of your citizen, you _feel _of how they died. As such, Japan's mind had almost collapsed from the amount of burning around his body and of the loss of air. When a nation is young, any single death is difficult to handle. But as a nation grows and matures, the deaths steadily only become a moment of hurt…that is if no one dies at once. Japan was continuously lying in his own blood as Pochi continued whine and bark. The sound was almost too much for the Japanese nation, and was about to ask weakly for Pochi to stop barking when the main shoji screen to his house slammed open._

"Ibon!" _Japan warily looked up and could see Korea shaking with rage as his hanbok slightly rose in the air as the fellow nation raged up the steps to the main room. _Not even pausing to remove his shoes, _Japan thought as he weakly sat up to face the Korean nation. The formerly warm brown eyes of the southern half of Korea were dark and unforgiving as he stared at the bleeding Japan. "How could you do this to me?" The shout almost made Japan flinch and he didn't speak as Korea continued to yell "How could you kill my people _again _after less than five years, Japan?" Japan's dark brown eyes widened. In the two days that he had been bombarded with agony and fire in his lungs, he had yet to understand what had happened. He tried to ask what had occurred that had upset Korea so much, but his words were silent to the other Asian nation. "All dead! 6,000 of them murdered because of _your _people, spreading rumors and lies!" _

_Tears were now trailing down the Korean's cheeks, in stark contrast to the red marks of rage he had on his face. "Lies, that _your _people started! My people didn't do anything, _Ibon!_" Japan now could see blood against the navy blue and white hanbok, the long sleeves also smeared with dried blood. The sight of the Korean before the darker haired nation reminded him of another time, not so long ago, when he had wailed into the sky as he held his dead citizens in his arms. Now it was Japan who was weak, bleeding and wounded before his former brother. "I still remember when you came to my house and stopped the so-called _rebellion_!" At the word used by the weak man a mere four years ago, an uncharacteristic sneer appeared on Korea's face. "My people are mocked here every day, treated lower than dirt, their history and culture denied to them _because _of you!" Suddenly the shouting stopped and Korea stilled. Japan, although showing no emotion before his brother, was shaken by what he had said. He found it hard to swallow, and was that pain in his chest? For a moment Japan tried to speak but couldn't. Then his composure shattered at Korea's next words._

"_I'm glad they're dead, _Ibon_! I'm happy that 140,000 of your imperialistic people are dead! In fact, more should have – "_

_Slap! Korea stood in stunned silence as Japan took his hand away. A dark red mark remained where Japan's hand had been. The Japanese nation was breathing hard, unaware that blood was dripping onto the _tatami mats_ as he stood in front of his colony. It almost seemed to the nation that Korea actually shuddered before him._

"_Do not say anything else that you would regret, Korea." Japan's voice was so cold that it felt as if cold water had dripped down Korea's back. His eyes were emotionless, as empty as they had been the day that he single-handedly killed Korea's own people before his eyes. "You are nothing but a colony. You do not speak. You do not think." The nation looked up at him, his face as cold as winter's night. "You only _exist _for me. Understand?" When Korea didn't respond, Japan yelled, "Do you understand me?" Korea numbly nodded. How was it possible that such a nation as him, the creator of everything – no matter what China said – would gravel on the knees of such a young nation? Korea's mood darkened, and he kicked the unsuspecting Pochi in the stomach, not hearing the dog yelp in pain, and Japan's worried gasp. _I hate you, _Korea thought as he exited the house overlooking the destroyed city. _I hate you so much…and someday I will make you suffer for what you did to me and our older brother.

_Japan's sudden coldness had disappeared when he had seen Pochi collapse from a vicious kick to the stomach. He had rushed over to the crying dog, soothing it through his soft hands. Japan's thoughts as he comforted the hurt Pochi revolved around what he had said. What had come over him? He always remained calm in any situation, no matter what that entailed. Why had he reacted that way to Korea? Japan's thoughts remained troubled that night as he watched Pochi sleep soundly by his _futon_, having the conversation with Korea over and over again in his mind as he slept. The next morning, he had forgotten the entire occurrence._

Japan was only aware of Kuro's cold hand lifting away from his head as the memory resurfaced. How he wanted to imagine it as an illusion. How the nation wanted to take the words back that he had said to his former brother and…colony. Japan's mouth became dry as the memory started to surface again. It had been real. The fight, the massacre that had occurred, and the cold words he had exchanged with Korea. Japan's stunned eyes met Kuro's, and he found his counterpart looking at him with a trace of pity in his gaze.

"You remember now?" Kuro asked as Japan steadily began to tremble. "You remember the words that you said to your _colony _that day?" He crouched down to the stunned nation. "I remember that memory very well. It came to me not long after you had fallen into a deep sleep where no dreams can follow." His breath suddenly became close to Japan's face, and his red eyes stared at his weak counterpart. "You couldn't swallow what you had done to the nation you once considered your _oniichan_, so you gave the memory to me. No wonder you not like becoming angry. It becomes too much for you, for you do actions that you have immense regret over." His face remained unmoved when Japan began to speak.

"I…I am sorry for what I had done." Japan's voice was thick, and he could feel his breath coming in uneven gasps. "I am sorry."

Kuro didn't respond. Instead, he placed another hand on Japan's forehead.

"Sorry doesn't make it right. Now...I want here you scream this time."

* * *

><p>On September 1, 1923, a massive earthquake ruptured Tokyo and surrounding areas, killing 140,000 people. Fires broke out, also destroying most of the infrastructure. The media and officials spread rumors that the Korean immigrants in Japan caused those fires, prompting civilians, military officials, and others to massacre 6,000 Koreans. Four years beforehand on March 1, 1919, a national and nonviolent Korean uprising against Japanese colonial rule caused Japanese police to clash with the protestors, which about 7,000 people died.<p> 


	7. Memory VII

"Don't worry, he's probably pissed-out drunk somewhere in a ditch."

The voice belonged to Ireland, who was calmly observing the dissolving situation as if he had seen it all before.

France glanced at Ireland incredulously. For sure, the French nation had heard harsh words passed between _Angleterre_ and Ireland, but neither brother had mindlessly dismissed each other's welfare. Mon Dieu_, what happened last night? _France thought as Ireland continued to glare at other staring nations.

Germany was fuming. "I don't care about your petty spats, Ireland! This is a serious matter, and –"

Immediately after Germany started to speak, Northern Ireland began to shout in furious Gaelic, surprising the other nations on the fury in her eyes. Ireland's eyes became mere slits at the words directed at him. The physically teenage nation did not cower as he too shouted in her face.

"Man, Iggy has some _serious _family issues," Americawhispered. Or as quiet as he could make it. France inwardly sighed. _You are part of that family too, America, but you keep forgetting. _Just then, Ireland pounded his fist on the table and pointed his enraged face towards Northern Ireland.

"You're not part of this family, you insolent bastard!" he roared as the other nations outwardly gasped. "You're just his whore, so stay out of it!" Northern Ireland seemed to deflate. She bowed her head, and her shoulders shook. France didn't have to look at her to know that she was crying.

"Hey, leave Iggy's sister alone!" France inwardly cringed at the sight of Americaclasping the female nation's shoulder. "Because I'm the hero!" Northern Ireland almost subsequently pulled away, leaving the American nation confused and hurt. _She has heard _mon Angleterre's _cries, hasn't she? _France thought morosely as he stared at the young nation. Meanwhile, the other nations were panicking.

Italy was desperately trying to hold onto Germany while holding a white flag as the German unsuccessfully tried to pry him off as Romano was hiding behind a smiling Spain. The Baltics were shivering as Russia appeared behind them. The Nordics, on the other side of the room, were conversing quietly as the other nations appeared to shout and cry in fear and confusion. France could see the China, South Korea, and Taiwan, look concerned for a moment before their faces became emotionless masks. _Hmm… _France thought. _Interesting. _

"Everyone, be quiet!"

Surprisingly, it was not Germany that shouted for quiet, but France. The blond nation sighed as the nations calmed down and actually appeared to listen.

"Now, I know most of you know that I have known _Angleterre _for a very long time. As such, I know that…certain _things _can cause him to break down." France turned to Ireland. "Ireland, did something happen over the course of this month that would cause _Angleterre _to react in an extreme way?"

France thought he saw Ireland blink his eyes. "No."

"_Non?" _France inwardly sighed at the nation's stupidity. Did he not realize he knew about _Angleterre_'s pointless little meetings? He had complained to him the night before, after all. "Ireland, _Angleterre _suddenly disappears after a meeting with his older brothers which include you." His voice hardened as Ireland continued to not look at him. "Is it not a coincidence that _Angleterre _is missing today when he is the one hosting the World Meeting in his capital city?"

Ireland frowned. "How the hell do you know about our meetings?"

"I am the only one that can endure your brother's ranting and complaining for hours on end."

He waited. The other nations stared at France in shock. Most of them that had not seen him in war had never seen him this serious or _threatening_ before. They had only seen him as a flirt that tried to get into bed with as many nations – and humans, if the rumors were correct – as he could. Only the former enemies of France knew how serious and dangerous he could be if provoked. _Angleterre _was one of them. As the silence continued, France continued to feel burning anger in his stomach. _Does he truly not care about _Angleterre_? He is his _frère_! Certainly he must, no matter how deep the wounds are between them. _

"Scotland told him that…he should have died when Rome came," Ireland muttered. France stifled a gasp. In the centuries he had known _Angleterre _and his brothers, none had mentioned Rome in any of their fights. _Not even when all of them were at each other's throats!_ Other nations that had not known the Roman Empire stared in confusion. The others, especially those that were under his rule, glared at the Irish nation. _That is an insult like none other, _France thought as the Italian brothers appeared lost and uncertain what to say. "…And he stated that our mother…shouldn't have died for him."

It took only a moment for France to realize what had just been stated. "You _imb__ècile!_" France could see the nations recoil in shock at his furious expression and the rage seeping from him. He pulled Ireland's face dangerously close to his own. "Not only did you and your brothers come to gloat about Scotland's independence, but you had to mention Britannia! You know how sensitive _Angleterre _is, especially concerning his _maman_!" Ireland gulped, his eyes widening in fear as France continued to yell. "I thought you had better sense as an older brother, Ireland." France sighed, loosening his grip on the Irish nation as the other nations collectively sighed in relief.

The relief didn't last long.

"Why do you care about him so much?" Ireland screamed as his eyes became dark with anger. "He almost killed me, you stupid Frenchmen! Or have you forgotten, like you forgot your precious Joan D'Arc?"

"I have not forgotten, Ireland." France stated as his hands shook at the mention of the human woman that still haunted his dreams. "I have not forgotten what he did to _you_, either." His voice lowered dangerously. "And it's Jeanne, not Joan!" His blue eyes surveyed around the room. "Every one of us has committed atrocities, Ireland! Look at Germany –" at this, the French nation saw Prussia glare at him and Germany flinch. Was it his imagination, or did he see Italy inch closer towards his friend as his face became deathly pale? "– and Russia! Belgium massacred millions of people in Congo." At this, Belgium looked at France in confusion and hurt as the Netherlands glared at the French nation dangerously. "America killed Native America, and –"

"I don't mean to interrupt your cool rant, dude, but what the hell is a Native America?" France inwardly sighed at _Amérique_'s dumbfounded and steadily angered expression. _He doesn't remember, _the blond nation thought as the glare intensified. _Just like with _Espange. For some reason, the young nation was not able to remember Native America, or that fact that he had been the one to cause her death. The manner of confusion and hurt was also seen by _Espange, _who had indvidually massacred millions of natives before he had found the then-tiny Mexico and Chile, among others. There was a reason why some of the Latin American countries refused to see the European nation for centuries. He had killed their mother. _And Rome killed Britannia, _mon Angleterre's _mother. Which is why I am astounded that _he _would even say such a thing. _

"Where is Japan?" France's attention turned towards Greece, who was now actually standing and blinking his eyes in concern. "It's been twenty minutes since the meeting started, and he hasn't arrived."

Surprisingly, the Netherlands nodded in agreement. "He is right. Japan is too diligent to miss a moment of punctuality." As Greece stared at the Netherlands in suspicion, but before the dark-haired nation could say anything, Germany spoke.

"We will continue this discussion later!" the German growled as he pulled off the groveling Italy. "France and America!" The nations turned. "You will be coming with me to England's boss to explain the situation!" As America opened his mouth to whine, Germany pointed his finger at two of the Asian nations. "China and South Korea, I think it would be a good idea if you went to Japan's house to see if there was an earthquake of any kind."

"There hasn't been any earthquakes though," South Korea said cheerfully as he took bites of his kimchi. _What a disgusting dish, _France thought as he turned his head away. _Too spicy with no enough herbs! _"His house is next to mine, da-ze!"

France could see Germany almost sigh in frustration. "Just check up on him." He turned again to the two taller nations. "Come with me. The rest of you, stay here! We'll bring back as much information as we can acquire!"

France collided with Scotland as the unsuspecting nation stumbled onto the floor.

"How could you, Scotland?" France hissed. Germany stood by with his mouth in a thin line as America stood mindlessly whistling. The French nation had insisted on bringing the three brothers with them to the meeting with _Angleterre'_s boss. He had thought it would be best if they had stopped at Scotland's house to see if the nations were there. "How could you mention Britannia to him?"

With a heavy grunt, Scotland pushed off the Frenchman. "It's too early for yelling, goddamn it." He swayed slightly. "Besides, I didn't just mention our mother." France's eyebrows rose. "I mentioned you too, you useless nation." He scowled.

"_Moi?" _France gasped. His expression only served to amuse the American, who softly laughed. _Why does the Englishman even care about me? _"Why would you mention –"

"Enough, France." The nation felt a hard hand on his shoulder. "We've spent enough time here. If Scotland doesn't know where he is or particularly care, then we should go."

"Wait, goddamn it." The tall and muscular German turned to find Scotland with a slightly concerned expression. "England's missing? You don't know where the bastard is?"

"_Nein," _Germany muttered. A slightly more concerned expression appeared on Scotland's face. "It would serve you to come, Scotland." Scotland scowled at the three for a moment before stamping out the cigar previously in his left hand. The ashes left stains on the pavement. The fiery redhead nodded, while calling his other brother Wales as he stared at Ireland. An unknown look passed between them.

"England is missing?" France flinched at the hard tone _Angleterre_'s boss took when Scotland had stated the reason for their visit. The Englishwoman almost dropped the tea that she was carrying. _A heart attack waiting to happen, _France thought in relative amusement at the mere thought of _Angleterre _screaming at him for making him spill his tea. _I still remember the bruises. _"When did you become notified of this? Why did this happen?"

"One question at a time," Scotland muttered. _Angleterre_'s boss frowned. Scotland coughed. "I mean, yes. England…was notified as missing early in the meeting."

"Who reported this?" France took a moment to look at the boss that had governed _Angleterre_'s land for ten years. The human's once dark brown hair was gray, and wrinkles that had not appeared before were now present in her skin. Her hazel eyes had not lost the passion and the dedication that had captivated the citizens of the island, including _Angleterre_, France noted. He hadn't seen the Englishmen this captivated since Elizabeth I. _She is _tres beau, the French nation thought as he stared briefly into her hazel eyes. Emma Abbott was fifty years old and responsible for the support of the Scottish independence movement. He had heard _Angleterre _growl that was her only flaw, _"supporting the bloody tyranny that is my brother," _but would not dare to say that to her face. France had tried to hit on her once, and found her scathing look so intimidating it was another year before he could look at her in the eye again.

The prime minister of England was charismatic and also kept her head in any kind of situation. _Unlike the king, who simply brushed us off, _she _actually cares. _France absentmindedly thought of Elizabeth II, who had died not even ten years ago. The normally shouting and rude Englishman had been unnaturally quiet for several months after her death, and when asked, would only speak in clipped sentences. _I remember holding him that night, when he sobbed into my hair, and cried out for her. _Although he had not loved her, _Angleterre _had been fond of his queen. Her son he was not so fond of. _"The bloody git just loves to sit in her bloody chair!" _France would always listen as the short Englishmen would rant and shout about his other boss until he was exhausted and usually – crying. Now the king was dying as well, with _his _son taking his place. Mon dieu,_ there are times when I am grateful for the French Revolution!_

"Northern Ireland."

"I see," Abbot stated as she continued to observe the nations. "It seems my staff and I have been careless. I apologize." For a moment a brief expression of worry echoed across her face. "I have heard no ransom demands or of any terrorists organizations making a claim. Therefore, I request –"

"It's not that simple, prime minister." Scotland sighed. "My stupid idiot brother is probably somewhere, maybe in a ditch, crying somewhere in his own sick."

Abbot frowned. "I hardly doubt a self-respecting nation such as England would –"

"Believe me, Iggy's done_ that_ before!" At the withering glare of the human in front of him, America quieted.

"We fought, and well…in my defense, I was the one who was right!" Scotland suddenly stood and attempted a glare at the prime minister. "He invaded my lands, and abused my brothers and I!" Scotland's voice choked at the fury in the prime minister's eyes.

"We set up those meetings for a reason, Scotland," she stated dangerously calm, her hazel eyes flashing. "My predecessors, yours bosses' included, believed it was the right decision to move_ beyond_ the past grievances and forge bonds that you made a millennia ago." Abbot turned her attention to Wales and Ireland. "You _were _not supposed to fight like teenagers, and behave like that proud nations you are!"

_If only she knew, _France thought.

"It isn't our fault that England got so upset about what Scotland said about Ancient Rome," stated Wales, although France could see a flicker of remorse in his expression.

"Or about our mother, which is what happened," Ireland said more gruffly as he refused to look at the prime minister or France.

"Don't give me any excuses." The prime minister stood, her voice firm. "Find him." Her intense expression settled on Scotland, who was scowling. "Find England, or so help me…" Abbot left the threat hanging in the air as she stared at the four nations in her office. "You're dismissed. I will be able to convince that your bosses our fine with your absence." France and the three brothers nodded to her, America smiling at the prospect of having no paperwork, and they turned to leave the office. As France was about to close the door, familiar hazel eyes bored into his own.

"France." There was a slight vulnerability in the prime minister's tone that he had never heard before. "I ask of you…to find England." _Fear? _France thought as he recognized the human emotion. "Please." The whispered words that she spoke echoed into France's mind as she continued looking at him as genuine _fear _echoed in those depths. Before he could act on that, however, the door closed.

"France!" The nation turned to find Scotland pulling out another cigar despite the numerous signs against smoking and growled at him. "Get your ass moving!"

_That was a strange situation, _France thought as he remembered the prime minister's eyes. _I have never seen fear or…that kind of emotion on her face. She must truly care about her nation, _France thought as he absent-mindedly stroked his chin._ But of course she would, she's… Oh. _How much had France seen those very same eyes throughout the centuries? The eyes of a frantic lover, desperately denying what could be true? How could France not see this before, when the prime minster would glance fondly at _Angleterre _when she thought both he and her nation were not looking? _She always praised him, leaving no room for faults, _France thought as he continued to walk frantically out of the English Parliament, not even pausing to make coarse remarks about the scenery, which would upset both _Angleterre _and the prime minister. _Formerly being not one for tears, she would always let _Angleterre _weep in front of her. I used to be the one to comfort him the most before, _France thought as frustration at the thought. For a brief moment, the French nation started to ponder _why _he felt this frustration when Scotland screamed at him to hurry up.

* * *

><p>"So…you are China, correct?"<p>

"Yes." China gritted his teeth. It had been almost one hundred years since he had spoken Japanese. Since that night… China inwardly banished his mind from those thoughts and focused on the man before him.

The Asian nation stared at the man that had recently visited _that place. _China refused to see it as a shrine. _A place for murderers and their imperialist ancestors to rest, _the Chinese nation thought furiously as the man in front of him calmly sat in front of him and his siblings. South Korea was barely keeping calm. He seemed uninterestingly focused on the traditional Japanese painting on the far side of the wall. Taiwan was subdued.

"And…why are you here?"

_Aiyah, Japan's boss is annoying! _China had explained for five minutes why he, South Korea, and Taiwan were in Japan's house in the first place. The siblings had searched Japan's house – unlike the European nations, who immediately contacted Opium's boss – and found nothing. Pochi was even barking at the door, whining to let outside. He seemed to cower from South Korea for some reason, China observed. There they found a scroll with the kanji for siblings outside the door, wet from the snow. What had caused China to scream was the blood. Dark blood coating the floor and the scroll, against the ink that did not look completely black. Although the pain of the reason for his visit to Japan's house the night before was vivid in him mind, a cold and dark fear enveloped the Chinese nation then. _What happened to Japan?_

"I have told you. Japan is missing." The human nodded, losing interest even as the Chinese nation started to explain again. _Maybe this will work. _"If Japan is killed multiple times, the nation will collapse." Now Japan's boss' eyes widened, and China felt brief sympathy for his former younger brother. _His boss doesn't even care for him, _he thought.

"You would like to see that, wouldn't you China?" Japan's boss uttered in contempt. China's eyes widened in rage. "Your boss certainly would like to see my country becoming a memory…so how are you different from them, I ask?"

The words struck China more than they should have. _"I wish America would have killed you!" _Last night's words echoed in his mind. He thought of Japan's broken expression, which had been blind to him before. _I…have nothing to say to you!_

"Japan is my younger brother," China replied even as he hated speaking to the human in front of him. "I will not leave him to die."

"Fine." Japan's boss gave an unreadable expression. "Go, find him before anyone dies."

China didn't even offer him a bow.

"Attention!" Germany stood in the center of the room. France and the other nations that had recently arrived from meeting _Angleterre_'s boss stood beside each other. Northern Ireland also stood beside them despite the glares her brothers gave her. None of them spoke. _This is a heavily serious matter, _France thought as the other nations quieted at the sound of Germany's shout. _Everyone is quiet and listening. How _Angleterre _would love that! _At the thought of the English nation however, France's thoughts became bleak. _Where are you, _mon ami_? Not everyone hates you as you think they do._

"We have yet to locate England and Japan at this time! As such, we can only presume that others have found out about our secret!" Germany's pale blue eyes surveyed the room. "After an argument with their brothers concerning issues about the past, both nations disappeared." At the mention of this, both France and strangely Greece stared harshly at the brothers. "It is likely they were kidnapped," the German nation stated morosely. Fear started to build in the nation's eyes. Even Russia's violet eyes, a hint of worry appeared. "We will look for them, and any nation who wants to is welcome to come along!"

"It looks like Iggy and Japan need a hero!" France allowed himself a sigh. _I am beginning to see why _Angleterre _tried to lock up his comic books. _

"I will come as well." Several other nations looked surprised when they saw Iraq standing up in his traditional garb. "What?" the nation glared.

It did not help matters that America suddenly put his arm around the older nation. "I guess we'll be saving Iggy together, Iraq!" Iraq's eyebrow twitched. "After all, I was your and Afghanistan's hero!"

Immediately, the turbaned nation broke free from the American's grasp. His dark eyes were murderously angry. He muttered something in Arabic under his breath and then said,

"Say that to my brother, you bastard! He hasn't gotten over the war yet!"

"Really?" America looked surprised. For a moment his eyes darkened. "Where's Israel when you need him? He could help you guys with your problems, you know."

France swallowed at the intense fury in the former colony. "He's busy destroying the Middle East, and you're not helping matters!" For a moment, the nation seemed to calm. "I will help in your effort to rescue England, Germany." His dark eyes glared at the American nation. "He's better company than America, anyway."

"Hey!"

"I will come as well." Various eyes stared at the tall Asian province standing near Iceland. Hong Kong was wearing a traditional Chinese dress but the eyebrows above his head remained despite almost one hundred years since moving back into China's house. The province had an unreadable expression on his face, but judging by the growing anger in China's eyes, the former colony had made his choice.

"Hong Kong, what are you thinking?" The Chinese nation stated in mixed worry and anger. "Why would you try to help locate Opium? He used you!"

"He raised me as well." Hong Kong stated in a monotone voice. "I know you do not have a very good relationship with him, but England taught me many ideas and thoughts."

"He taught you how to be a delinquent!"

As the former brothers continued their argument, France's attention became aware of another nation that wanted to join their efforts. Russia.

"I will help, _da_?" The nations that had fought Russia during the war shuddered at the sight of the nation's growing purple aura. "I do not like my boss, and so you will let me help, _da_?" At the corner of his eye, France thought he saw Germany's face turn pale. Prussia too was unable to look the other nation in the eye.

"I will also come." France breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his old friend, Spain. The green-eyed Spaniard appeared cheerful despite the circumstances. _"Inglaterra es mi amigo." _

"No way, you commie bastard!" America started to yell as his shaking hand pointed at the taller nation. "You killed your boss!"

The room became deathly silent. France almost forgot to breathe. Russia appeared to be smiling and happy, but the blond nation could see the mask starting to crack. _Stupid! He wasn't supposed to mention that! _

Fortunately it appeared that World War III would be on standstill as various Asian nations, China, South Korea, Taiwan, and Vietnam stood and told Germany that they would be rescuing Japan.

"Don't forget me!" Heads turned to find Turkey with his mask strutting towards the others. _What a bizarre friendship if I've ever seen one, _France thought as he inwardly shook his head. Greece stood beside Turkey as well, scowling and silently allowing his former enemy to move ahead of him. His once half-closed eyes were open, and appeared clear and determined. There was no cat in sight. "I was the Ottoman Empire!"

_Yes, and we had to save your ass, _France thought in exasperation as the glares intensified from all sides of the room. Greece started beating the masked nation to a pulp as several of the nations, particularly ones that had been under Turkey's rule, started to cheer.

"Everyone, shut up!" A vein was starting to pop in Germany's head, and the pencil he was holding in his hand was starting to crack. "We are here to save our fellow nations, not fight about the past, which is what caused the disappearance in the first place! Now –"

Unfortunately for Germany, there was a sudden sound. The presentation board suddenly came on, slowly moving until it was where it had been a mere month before when Germany started talking about how to correctly solve the world's problems. No one moved. The nations in the room waited with bated breath, their eyes not leaving the screen.

"Hello, loves!" _Angleterre? _The voice did sound like his own. It had the tone and for a moment France thought that perhaps the Englishman had gotten drunk again and shown his sweet side when something didn't feel right. This voice as too sweet to belong to _Angleterre_, and there was a malicious note in that voice as well. _Where have I heard this voice before? _His memory thought he had heard this voice before, but France was certain he had not. Then suddenly the screen flashed.

Standing before them was a man that looked like _Angleterre _and yet not _Angleterre_. His hair was too tame, his eyes too lively, and his clothes… France shuddered.

"Hello, loves!" the _Angleterre _imposter stated again. Looking closer, France could see that the person's eyes had a shade of pink. _Pink? _"I have a little present you, for being such good little boys and girls!" Uncontrollable laughter suddenly escaped from him, and the nations in the room recoiled in horror. Many times throughout their history they have heard such laughter. The laughter of a mad nation. The color from France's face drained. "Here you go, my dear poppets!"

France waited with bated breath as the sudden light was turned back off. A moment later, it was turned back on. A knife stained with old and slick blood was against a neck. The hands were stained with blood, and a ghastly smile on the face as the light showed the nations the present given to them.

France could only gap in horror. His heart clenched as vomit reached his throat, and his head lurched, sickened, as the _Angleterre _imposter pressed the knife against skin and grabbed a shaking and bloody hand, waving.

"Say hi, Arthur!"

* * *

><p>I<p>

I'm sorry this took so long, guys. I hope to update quicker sooner next time! I have a question for _you_ though. How long should it take for England and Japan to break and to lose their minds? Tell me if the nations are out of character. _Arigatou gozaimasu!_


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